Killing You Softy
by Casey Wolfe
Summary: When Carter and Owen met they had no idea what secrets they were each hiding. [Slash, Explicit, Graphic Violence, Breathplay, Knifeplay, Bloodplay, Serial Killer AU]


**A/N: I've no idea what's wrong with me… *shakes head* I blame Luke and his movie "No One Lives" cause seriously, Luke is one sexy fucking serial killer. And that probably says so much about me that I don't even wanna analyze that statement. This thing is all kinds of fucked up. As am I. And I'm okay with that. Enjoy?**

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><p>Owen frowned when he walked into the mansion. He was met with a pair of bloody boots at the door, a finely tailored jacket and pair of pants, also stained, sitting in a pile next to them. Immediately alert, his hazel eyes scanned the foyer as he listened for movement in the house.<p>

Slowly he moved towards the staircase, heading for the master bedroom. As he went, he caught a bloody handprint smeared along the rail. That started his heart pounding, quickening his pace to a jog. He finally could make out noise coming from the bedroom, yet another bloody hand print greeting him on the door frame.

He crossed the room to the large bath where he heard the shower running. Steam was forming inside but there was no hiding the leather gloves sitting on the counter next to a bottle of bleach. Or the rolled out tool kit with various instruments covered in blood. Owen's mouth dropped open, gaze falling on Carter.

The brunette was standing next to the shower in only his white dress shirt, which was stained with crimson as well. Carter must have heard him enter, head snapping up and blue eyes locking on him in shock. "Owen?" Carter panicked, looking around at the evidence left around the room. "I- I can explain."

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><p><em>Five Months Earlier…<em>

It annoyed Carter to no end when people assumed he hadn't earned the things he had. Did he have help starting out on his ownmore than your average kid would have? Of course. He came from a line of money and thus his parents had put him through one of the best colleges to get his degree in business. They had even given him the capital to start his first enterprise and gifted him a very nice house. That, however, was where their influence ended.

The mansion he now owned in Miami was bought thanks to his successful nightclubs throughout the country- which he purchased with profits made from that very first venture. He had even paid back his parents their initial investment with interest so he could fully say he was his own made man. He had _earned _his stripes and to hell with the bastards who said otherwise.

Looking to expand his successful empire into Europe, Carter had taken a working vacation. He had started in Barcelona, took a quick stop in Monaco, before dropping into Torre Del Lago. It wasn't the most traditional clubbing spot when one thought of Italy, but the fact it had the reputation at being the most gay-friendly party town was enough to draw his attention- a market he could take advantage of and also enjoy on a personal level.

Next on the list had been Croatia- if only for the popularity for leisure travel- followed by Budapest and Prague. The latter two had been absolutely _gorgeous _cities and he couldn't wait to start projects for them. The club scenes were both familiar and uniquely refreshing at the same time and he felt he could thrive there.

After that it was a quick stop in Berlin and the tourist trap of Amsterdam, finding them to be rather over-rated for his tastes. Berlin didn't seem to have its own flavor from what he had found and Amsterdam was rather like a seedier version of Vegas without any of the class. It certainly wasn't a place Carter would like to return- even if the sinful fun everywhere _was _tempting, especially as a potential hunting ground.

That was something he certainly _wasn't _missing out on. His little hobby he'd found was in full swing, despite the foreign territory. It wasn't hard to find spaces for him to use and even easier to locate targets. The beauty of it was that he didn't need to be nearly as careful as he would have in the States, being there and gone within days.

Fresh from his debauchery in Amsterdam, Carter arrived in London ready to stake out the town. He wasn't disappointed either, going from one party to the next. It was at one of those clubs he met Owen Shaw.

The man was a self-proclaimed playboy and Carter found out he was a bit of a bad boy as well. Shaw enjoyed his fast bed-mates and even faster cars. He lived for the next adrenaline high and given his place in the underground racing scene he knew his way around the nightlife as well. That was the reason Carter decided to get close to him, or at least it was the excuse he used.

Unknown to him at the time, Carter didn't need an excuse to get close to him- Owen was more than intrigued the moment he'd laid eyes on the other brunette.

Owen was used to people throwing themselves at him- men, women, it didn't matter. Admittedly he enjoyed the attention. Still, with Carter something seemed different. The more they talked, the more Owen felt he'd found a kindred spirit. Carter ended up staying for two weeks, meeting with him and going out.

It was all casual enough at first but it didn't stay that way. It quickly turned into heated nights in tangled sheets and limbs, flying higher than he'd ever been before. Owen wasn't about to let that go, wanted to chase after it like an addiction. Thus when Carter announced it was unfortunately time to return home, he happily accepted the man's invitation to join him in Miami.

Neither of them really imagined that Owen would stay, however after the first month together it was rather clear he wasn't leaving. Shaw hedged to bet that it was love he was feeling and that Carter shared his sentiments. Whatever it was, he wanted more of it.

Of course he eventually had to go home but Owen didn't stay away long. The nice thing about coming from money as Carter did was that he didn't want for anything. All of his affairs were looked after, including his plush penthouse and garage with row after row of custom cars.

That was where most of his personal funds came from. Having money, no one expected him to be a hands on kind of guy. Owen quite enjoyed showing people how wrong they were. He knew what he was doing in a garage and when he wasn't working on his own projects and participating in illegal races, he was customizing other people's cars. It was good spending money- his racing taking care of his own cars while the family fortune handled the bills.

He saw Ian on his brief trip, the pair going out for a hunt together. It had been a while since they'd shared their peculiar habits but satisfying none-the-less. There was something about being with his brother that brought out a certain spark in their depravity. Still, Owen would be happy to be solo again, savoring his own personal flare he'd developed when they went separate ways.

Returning to Carter had been a wake-up call for him. Suddenly the weeks had seemed like months and he ravished his lover for days on end- not that Carter was complaining. Owen knew after that, there was no way he was giving up his newest addiction. Thankfully for him, he wasn't the only one.

* * *

><p>The hunting cabin was dark save for the light of the full moon coming through the windows. That night it was used for a different type of hunting. The owner of the cabin was strung up, ropes pulling his limbs taunt, arms stretched above his head and legs splayed as far as they would go edging on painful. His head hung, body sagging against the bonds.<p>

"Wake up!" a voice snapped, a sharp slap coming across the man's face. The hunter cursed, spitting blood onto the floor before slowly looking up to meet his tormentor's face. A cut ran across his lip, one eye swollen shut. However what the hunter had no way to know was that it was just the beginning.

The man known only to investigators as _The Ghost _rolled out his leather tool kit, eyes lighting in manic glee as he brushed his fingers over the various instruments he had. Next he opened a red metal toolbox. Whereas the rolled kit held his precision instruments, the toolbox was perfect for his bigger items- like the mallet he pulled out.

His grin had teeth, vicious with intent. It made his features sharpen, his captive gazing at him warily. "Not so tough now, are you?" he taunted, approaching in slow, calculated steps.

"I never did anything to you!" the man argued, his light brown locks falling into his dark eyes blown wide in fear.

"You exist," he hissed, lashing out with the mallet. It impacted with a knee cap, the bones shattering and causing a sharp cry. It pulled another grin onto the killer's face, licking his lips as he continued to watch the man squirming in pain. It was music to his ears and the best part was that it was only the start. There would be an entire score written over the coming days.

There was one thing about _The Ghost _that never changed. He held his victims captive for days on end, as long as he could draw it out before growing bored and taking that final step. Torture was his mantra and blood was a spoil he most enjoyed. In the end it didn't really matter how he got results- torture of all kinds was fair game and rats were an especially fun addition to his hobby.

No, what counted was the final moment. When he would look into the eyes of his target and watch as life left them, as they realized they weren't getting out, that they were _nothing_. They were all men chosen because of their arrogance, their muscle and large stature that made them think so highly of themselves. In the end they all begged, they all broke, they all crumbled beneath his smaller frame.

Life was strangled from them, be it by his own hands or something more it didn't make a difference usually. It was whatever struck his fancy. This one… this one would be a choker chain he thought. It would look pretty around the bastard's neck. Perfect for the bitch he really was under all of his bulk.

When it was over, when his play was done and nothing but a lifeless corpse remained, he left the body where it was. Then he slipped back into the world as seamlessly as he'd left it. And nothing would be left of him in the cabin, having struck just like the apparition the police named him.

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><p>He'd pulled her right off the street, a willing target who'd gone with him without fuss. She had quickly learned of her mistake the second she entered the cheap motel room. A hit to the back of the head had her out long enough to wake to her mouth taped and hands cuffed above her head, chain threaded through the headboard slats. Her eyes were wide as she looked at the man who loomed above her, tears stinging her eyes.<p>

She had no way to know the man she'd gotten into a car with was who Scotland Yard was calling the new _Jack the Ripper_. He wasn't vain enough to care about the association. It fit his MO, the way he left his victims bloodied with a multitude of stab wounds- focusing particularly on the abdomen. He would also slice their throats at the very end more often than not, watching the spray paint the walls.

Like all his other targets, this one was a blonde prostitute. Male, female, it didn't much matter. The blonde part of the equation came from his first kill- a joint effort with his brother- slaughtering his then girlfriend in the heat of the moment. The hooker part came afterward, once he'd split ways with his hunting partner- his first solo just happening to be a working girl. All the pieces seemed to fall into place after that.

The woman whimpered as he straddled her thighs, his blade teasingly scraping across her bare stomach. It wasn't very important to him to drag things out. It was the violence of the act that got him off, not the pain. It was the fear and the blood that did it for him.

His knife slid into a cavity of her abdomen, his grin feral as he watched the agony cross her face, her scream muffled by the tape. _The Ripper _may not have cared about keeping them alive for a torture session, however he didn't want them to die _too _quickly. That wouldn't do at all.

No words were ever said, no matter how much the woman cried or how she begged behind her gag. Words didn't matter. He simply watched the blood flow, the way it pooled underneath of her body. His fingers trailed through the crimson liquid, making a painting of death. He brought his fingers to his lips, savoring the taste.

With one final thrust of the knife into the woman's abdomen, he cried out his release, loving the euphoria that passed through him. He bent himself in half, panting against her stomach, tongue flicking out to lap at the mix of fresh and drying blood. Her own breath was coming out ragged as well, life quickly slipping away.

Before it was completely gone, he brought his blade to her throat. The blood made a beautiful splatter against the off-white motel wall. The sight made _The Ripper _groan once more, the body and gore laid beneath him like the finest work of art.

* * *

><p>Owen's personal car had been sent over from London, a silver DB9 which was a rather new addition to his extensive collection. This one was made special for several reasons, one of which resided in the trunk. The Aston Martin had a little secret. Built inside was a lead-lined compartment that held all he needed for his killing.<p>

He ran his hand under the lip on the side, finding the small latch and flipping it to pop open the hiding spot. Inside the lockbox was a collection of hair clippings, every shade of blonde imaginable in various lengths and textures. It also had a few different fixed blades. The one he took from inside his jacket was cleaned up at the scene and slipped back into the box until it was needed again, along with a new lock of hair tied with generic twine.

Meanwhile, Carter was in the master bedroom- more specifically the walk-in closet. A sizable safe sat in the back, anchored into the floor. Opening it revealed all of Carter's goodies. The red toolbox went in the bottom, the roll-out kit sliding onto a shelf next to his cherished leather gloves.

There was of course overflow- things that he didn't keep in his kits all the time. Various knives and other sharp objects glinted from a row all their own. Then there was the rope coiled next to the toolbox. And last but not least the various trophies from each of his kills, as varied and unique as the kill themselves. They were objects he took from the torture space to use, and whatever caused the most pain, gave him the most satisfaction, would be stashed with his other tools.

With everything back in its place and his latest prize- a piece of antler- added to the collection, Carter closed the safe. He was just giving the wheel a spin when light footfalls came behind him. He turned halfway, blue eyes meeting intense hazel green. Owen simply smiled at him, leaning against the doorway.

"And just what are you hiding in there?" he mused, accent rolling off the tongue and washing over Carter like a caress. The man really had no idea what his voice did to him.

Grinning back, Carter walked up to him and slid two fingers in his waistband. "All sorts of hidden treasures," he teased right back, nipping at Owen's lower lip.

"Mmm, I love a good mystery," was his reply, arm slinking around Carter's waist to pull him in flush and kiss him soundly on the lips.

* * *

><p><em>Present Day…<em>

Carter was known to be quick on his feet. However faced with his lover in such a compromising position he found it almost impossible to come up with anything convincing. "There was a fight and I, uh…" His eyes grew larger as Owen stepped towards him, his own emotions carefully guarded. "It's nothing. Really. I'm fine. No need to-"

He cut himself off when his back hit the shower doors, Owen stepping into his space. His lover wasn't supposed to be home yet. He'd been in London visiting his brother, not due back until the morning. Carter was meant to have time to clean up.

"Owen," he ventured, wishing for _some _sort of reaction.

Of course he never expected what he got. Owen smirked just before leaning in and licking at the drying blood on his cheek. Carter sucked in a breath, going completely still. "You missed a spot," was Owen's husky comment in his ear.

Carter completely lost control then, slamming their mouths together. There was no logic behind it, just a primal urge that overtook him. Owen returned that passion before grabbing his shoulders and slamming him back against the doors. Practically vibrating with energy, Carter commented, "You know."

"I do." Owen's voice was practically a growl, the look of hunger plain. The glint in his eye was someone who knew all too well what Carter was up to. The Brit turned to the leather bag rolled out on the counter, fingers brushing over the used tools. "Tell me what you did," he said, looking back over his shoulder with a dangerous smile on his face.

Carter's grin was feral then. It wasn't just that Owen knew what he was up to. No, it was much more than that. Owen knew because they had a lot more in common than they'd originally thought. "I could always show you," the brunette offered, eyes smoldering into him.

"Even better," Owen replied, pressing against him once more. "What's say we start by cleaning up this mess? Always better with a fresh canvas." Carter's answer was to slot their mouths together again, starting at his lover's pants.

The shower was hot, washing over Carter's body and pulling the blood down the drain. Owen's teeth were at his neck, biting and sucking marks onto his skin. "Tell me," he implored, voice low in his ear, hands grasping his hips.

Carter hummed, slamming Owen into the tile. "He thought he was something," he said, meeting hazel eyes blown wide in lust. "But he screamed just like all the others… _Begged_."

Owen grinned, allowing the heavy pressure placed on him. "How'd you do it?"

"Slowly… always slowly." His hand trailed languidly up Owen's chest, his fingers wrapping around his throat. "And when it's finally time to end it." Carter's hand tightened sharply. "I prefer to watch," his grip started to tighten more, ever so steadily until Owen could feel his air supply dwindling, "as the life slips from their eyes."

Owen actually moaned and pressed against his hand, cutting off the rest of his oxygen. Carter growled at that, bringing his other hand up to grasp his neck then. His thumbs controlled Owen's chin, tilting it to expose more neck and to still give him a view of Owen's eyes when Carter snapped for his lover to look at him.

Their eyes locked and Carter grinned, looking more predatory than usual. "It's not always the same method," he continued casually, watching as Owen's body started to react to his hold. "Hands, belt, rope, tie, garrote… That last one has a bonus of a rather bloody end."

Owen's hand came up and wrapped around the brunette's wrist, his face beginning to turn blue as his body trembled. Carter took one last lingering look into those eyes before letting go. Coughing, Owen sucked in a few deep breaths before he lunged at Carter, their lips colliding violently.

Growling, Carter flipped his lover around, shoving him to the wall of the shower. "Like that do you?" he spoke in Owen's ear. "You like all the blood?" His lover's answer was to groan, pressing back against him. Carter's smile was feral.

"Such a bad boy," he continued, watching the way his words continued to ratchet his lover up. Carter's left hand stayed on Owen's shoulder, holding him still, while the right moved down the man's body to the crease of his ass. "You want me to fuck you, don't you? While I tell you all the wicked things I did to him."

Owen let out a breathy, wanting sound, pushing back against the finger teasing his entrance and causing it to breach the ring of muscle. He keened when Carter shoved it in roughly the rest of the way, curling in search of his prostate. "That's it," Carter purred in his ear. "I want to hear you _scream_."

He promptly shoved in another two fingers, the burn making Owen cry out. It was the kind of pain he liked though, meeting the sharp, jabbing motion of his lover's fingers as he worked them in and out. "_More,_" Owen growled out when Carter's fingers started to rub inside him, brushing over the bundle of nerves that was his prostate.

"Patience," Carter insisted, biting at the juncture of his lover's neck and shoulder. "It was always something you severely _lacked_." At the last word he twisted his fingers deeper into Owen causing him to cry out in a mix of pain and pleasure.

Wrapping his hand once more around Owen's throat, Carter gave it a squeeze- not too hard as to cut off the flow of oxygen, but restricted it enough to aid Owen's climb to bliss. "There have been times I've held them for as long as a week," Carter continued nonchalantly, both hands working in unison. "A week at my mercy." He grinned against Owen's shoulder, voice dark as he asked, "Wouldn't you just love that? To watch?"

"God yes," Owen breathed out, pressing his neck further into the hand at his throat. Carter had always been the patient one, biding his time for when things were best at his advantage. He didn't particularly care how long it took, as long as he got what he wanted. It was a trait that both impressed Owen and infuriated him.

At the moment it was the latter as Owen pushed back with need. "Carter!" He managed a bit of growl behind it, even in his more submissive position. Owen had never been a push-over, nor would Carter have wanted him to be. They had always been equals both in and out of the bedroom, pushing and challenging each other at every turn.

Carter may have been a sadist when it came to his victims but despite what the authorities would no doubt say, he did indeed care- at least when it came to Owen. As such he wasn't about to leave the man hanging for much longer.

Fingers were removed, making Owen groan in displeasure, feeling empty and far from sated. "_Carter!" _he demanded, kicking out at him.

His lover only slammed him back into the shower wall, lips at his ear as he hissed, "Tell me how much you want it Owen." When the man only grumbled, Carter squeezed his neck. "You're so pretty when you beg."

"I could say that about you," Owen threw back, still managing to be cocky in spite of everything. He would have punched anyone else but Carter had always been the exception to many rules. "Fuck me, babe," he demanded instead. "_Hard._"

No sooner had he said it than Carter sank into him in one solid thrust. Owen hissed against the burn, erection rubbing against the tile of the shower. Not that his lover was giving him any opportunity to adjust. Carter set a punishing pace, each thrust deep and brutal. Owen took it all, writhing when his throat was squeezed again until he could barely breathe.

There was too much stimuli for Owen to stand. He came hard, the sensation curling in his gut as his body tensed. He screamed Carter's name, hearing an answering growl. Teeth were at his neck, primal and raw. Carter just about drew blood, his cry muffled as his own orgasm followed.

The pair stood there, neither moving as they leaned against each other. No words needed said, basking in their shared ecstasy.

Eventually Carter's tongue laved at the marks he left on Owen's skin, admiring his handy work. It wasn't just the teeth imprints at the juncture of his neck, but he knew without a doubt there would be imprints of his fingers around Owen's throat by morning. It would surely beat out the feral pride he felt seeing similar marks on the man's hips- these would be there for the world to see if Owen allowed it. Knowing his lover, Owen would show them off like a badge of honor.

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><p>Carter laid sprawled on the bed, naked and still a bit damp from the shower. Owen admired the planes of his lover's body, the bunching of lean muscles as he moved. Climbing onto the bed, he draped himself over Carter, watching the lazy smirk cross his face.<p>

"Tell me," Carter said, eyes locking with Owen's ever-changing eyes. At the moment they were a deep green, the flecks of gold more pronounced. "Tell me how you like it. What do you do?"

Owen's smile was pure confidence. _Why not? _he figured. _After all, one good turn deserves another. _"Are you sure you want to know babe?" he mused instead, wanting to tease him a bit.

"Well we know you like blood," Carter answered, hand running up and down Owen's chest. His smile had teeth as he added, "And I think you quite _enjoyed _what I do."

"I did," he hummed, nuzzling into Carter's neck. "But I prefer different… methods." Owen's hand snaked up under the bottom of the headboard to the knife he'd stashed there long ago. He sat up so his legs bracketed Carter's waist, grinning down at him with intent as he slowly pulled the fixed blade from its sheath.

Carter's eyes had faded to completely grey, sparking in the dim light of the room. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, watching as the ka-bar was waved back and forth. "Always prepared, right?" Carter managed, his dick twitching at the thought. It was like his own stash hidden right in the closet for Owen to potentially find.

"Never know when you'll need something close," Owen confirmed, tongue running along the flat of the blade. His eyes never left Carter's and the man shivered below him. "Ever done this before?" When Carter shook his head Owen's smile only grew. "You'll enjoy it," he promised darkly.

He leaned forward, the ka-bar pressed to the bed under his hand, lips connecting with Carter's. Despite having just had a romp in the bathroom, they were both already growing hard again at the prospect of not only more sex but violence as well. Owen breathed out against his lover's lips, "Do you trust me?" Carter didn't hesitate before nodding and Owen smiled before pressing their lips together again.

He sat back, gazing down at his captive audience. "For me, it's the blade," Owen said, bringing the ka-bar up and brushing it teasingly across Carter's abdomen using the side. It was the promise of danger, his partner stilling at the contact. "Watching it pierce flesh, the blood flowing."

Carter groaned, carefully rolling his pelvis up against his partner. Owen grinned like a cat with creme, knowing the other must have used blades himself at some point during his numerous torture sessions. There was an understanding there, a shared pleasure.

Sure enough, Carter asked, "Do you ever stick your fingers in the wounds?" His words sounded breathless. "Watch them squirm? Feel their pulse?" Owen groaned at the mental image, knife twisting so the edge ghosted over skin. Carter sucked in a breath, biting back his own moan as he ratcheted his lover up further. "The stomach's the best place right? All the guts… when you do it right and they stay alive with all of them spilled out all over the place?"

"_Yes_," Owen hissed, drawing out the '_s.' _The blade made it's turn the full way, making a shallow cut into Carter's skin, causing a hiss of his own.

Drawing Owen deeper into the fantasy, his lover prompted, "What else _mi Tesoro?_ What do you do?"

There was a look of manic glee in Owen's eyes as he started to explain in detail all the body cavities he sank his blade into, drawing it out as long as possible. Still, where Carter would spend days with his prey, Owen would be mere hours, if that. As he talked, the knife slid across skin, biting in every so often in places that would bleed but not prove lethal.

Carter groaned as blood started to flow, a sharp contrast to his fair skin. The little bits of pain were turned to pleasure, giving himself over to his partner. Like Owen, he had no problem relinquishing temporary control to the other. There was a trust between them, the knowledge that even playing the dangerous game they were, they were perfectly safe.

It probably went against every rule law enforcement and doctors alike would claim about serial killers- let alone a _pair _of them- but Carter soon figured out why. It was their types. Carter targeted large men and while Owen had an amazing body, he was lean muscle much like himself. Therefore he had never felt compelled to kill his lover in bed.

Likewise, Owen hadn't become a black widow because his victims were blondes- and hookers to boot. Carter was amused when his partner let out that little bit of information. "Guess I don't need to wonder what happened to that blonde waitress at Pearl that flirted with me all the time." He gasped as the blade cut him along the ribs.

"She was an exception," Owen growled out. The woman hadn't been a prostitute but he found it rather easy to ignore in light of the fact she thought she could take Carter from him. The man was his most precious possession. He enjoyed his cars, the racing, even his little hobby, but Carter… he would _never _give Carter up.

Owen slid his fingers through some of the pooled blood, smearing it across Carter's abdomen. He repeated the motion, drawing it up across his lover's chest. To his chagrin, Carter took hold of his hand, pulling it up to wrap his lips around the digits. As he flicked his tongue around them, his blue eyes met Owen's, causing him to moan.

"Shameless," Owen commented, his voice deep with lust.

Carter's grin around his fingers only grew. Giving them a nip, he released them. "You love me like this."

Smiling down at him, Owen answered, "Spread out wanting for me? Oh yes…" He brought his hands down to either side of Carter's head, lowering his body onto him. "You look so pretty covered in blood." He captured Carter's lower lip with his teeth, delighting in the wanting noises from his lover, the roll of his body underneath him.

Owen coated his fingers with more blood, using it as a lubricant as they pressed inside Carter's willing body. "You're so perfect," Owen moaned, taking in the debauched sight of his lover. It was taboo in all the right ways.

Carter's back arched off the bed as fingers curled and twisted inside him. He gasped out Owen's name, hooded eyes meeting intense hazel. With a smirk on his face, Carter's fingers trailed through the blood on his chest. He placed them on Owen's lips, watching the spark alight in his eyes as his tongue twisted around them for a taste.

"Come on _mi Tesoro,_" Carter purred, the effect lost slightly since he was a bit breathless.

Owen didn't have to ask what his lover needed, rather he simply grabbed him roughly by the hips. He thrust inside hard and deep, their groans filling the room with a beautiful melody. There was no need for words, giving in to all their carnal desires.

Sitting back on his haunches, Owen pulled Carter down to meet him, relishing the gasping cries of pleasure. He wasn't expecting the grasp of Carter's hand on his, the one that was still holding the blade. Carter twisted it, allowing the point to press against his abdomen. "Do it," he demanded, eyes sparking manically.

Owen re-positioned the blade without thought, knowing full well there was a body cavity there he could utilize- no doubt Carter knew it too. Even so, Owen shook his head, drawing back. Carter's hand tightened on his wrist, returning it to his skin as he growled sharply, "_Do it!_"

"No!" Owen hissed back, taking control back of his arm and promptly slamming the knife into the headboard. He cringed just thinking how bad Carter was going to yell at him for damaging his things but at the moment his lover was more focused on being denied. It was true that Owen very rarely denied the man anything but this time he just couldn't abide.

"I won't ever hurt you," he told Carter, "Not like that." Drawing blood, getting a bit wild and kinky, that was all one thing. What Carter was asking… "I won't risk you." His fingers thread into Carter's curls, meeting his gaze and finding understanding there.

Owen was glad he didn't have to explain himself. His lover was merely too precious. He knew Carter shared his sentiments- the man called Owen _his treasure_ for crying out loud. They had an attachment to each other that most "experts" on serial killers would probably call impossible.

Reaching up, Carter took hold of the ka-bar's handle, yanking the blade out. He scowled at the mark left behind, pointedly looking at Owen. Not commenting, Carter instead weighed the blade, swaying it side to side a moment. The thoughtful expression was one Owen knew well.

Sure enough Carter brought the blade to sit high up on his hip bone and looked intensely into his eyes. "Mark me as yours Owen."

Owen took hold of the handle, understanding then what Carter had been wanting. In the heat of the moment he'd gone too far in suggesting stabbing. What he was truly after was something physically showing off their claims. Smirking, Owen replied, "Only if you return the favor."

No sooner had Carter agreed than he cried out as steel sliced flesh. It was deeper that time, cutting into muscle so that it would leave behind a scar. Even with the pain, Carter's erection never flagged, leaking precum as he rode out the pain with the pleasure as Owen moved lazily inside him. "Fuck," he muttered, getting close.

"Wait for me," Owen grunted through clenched teeth as muscles contracted around his member. He knew exactly what would put him over the edge, practically shoving the knife's handle into Carter's hand. "Right here baby," he panted, tapping his right hip where he'd marked Carter.

The second metal bit into flesh, drawing the delicious burn across his skin, Owen growled out his release. Somewhere in his bliss he recognized Carter's own gasping cries, felt the hot slick of cum on his abdomen mixing in with their combined blood. It took a few minutes before they both came down enough from their shared high, meeting each other's eyes and drawing twin feral grins to their faces as they willed their breathing under control.

There was a satisfied sound from his lover as Owen pulled out, flopping onto his left side and draping an arm across him. As Carter's fingers rubbed over the fresh cut at Owen's hip, the slight burn sent tingles of pleasure through him. Trailing his hand through the mess they'd made on Carter's body, Owen quirked his lips. "We'll have to get you cleaned up. I need to check all of those cuts."

"Another shower?" Carter mused playfully. Fingers leaving a trail of blood up Owen's side.

Owen shook his head, head burrowing into the crook of Carter's neck. "You will be the death of me," he concluded. One way or another, Owen knew it to be true.

* * *

><p>The hunt. It was something to be savored. It was perhaps just as satisfying as the kill itself when done right. Now it was an entirely new game they played.<p>

Carter smiled wickedly before leaning back into the shadows, his hands playing with a length of rope. Owen could only smile right back, attention turning to the couple out for a twilight stroll in the remote park.

It was a new stalk, the promise of a new kill, and this time it was for them both.

/End


End file.
